


The Not-So-Common Cold

by unseenbox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem), Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 11:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22495405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unseenbox/pseuds/unseenbox
Summary: Dimitri finally gets the chance to fuss over Dedue, instead of the other way around.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	The Not-So-Common Cold

Though he'd been groomed for it at a young -- too young -- age, Dimitri never quite realized how much rulership involved a wide variety of documents pouring across the surface of a desk all day. Often through the night, too. He longed to get his hands on a lance, put himself through his paces, but a lance couldn't rebuild a land torn asunder unless he dug the trenches with it himself. Which admittedly wasn't a poor idea, but still, he'd prefer to leave his days of breaking everything he touched behind him. Impossible, he knew, and yet if there was even the slightest chance that with enough ink, he could make up for the blood he'd spilled, then he'd spend the rest of his days behind a desk like this.

Well. If his friends didn't have anything to say about the matter, at least. Sometimes it came in the form of Felix demanding he spar with him, or Annette bringing him candies from a shop she liked, or Sylvain taking him out to mingle with his people, or Mercedes showing him how to fix a torn sleeve, or—he could go on like this, listing out all the ways they cared for him and how much he loved them in return. And then, of course, there was Dedue, and oh, how he loved him. He thought for certain that as blossoms bloomed once more in Duscur that Dedue would return to his people, and yet here he was, standing in the doorway of his study. Light from the fire glanced off his armor, bathing him in warmth.

“Is something the matter?” Dimitri rose to his feet, leaving the mountain of papers behind. They’d keep.

Dedue kept his hands clasped behind his back. Such kind hands, so much it shamed him that he’d been made so hesitant to reach out with them. The cruel actions of his countrymen left scars with more than just their weaponry, it seemed. He leveled his gaze at him, brow furrowed with concern. “You have not eaten, and it is growing late.”

“Has it?” He looked out a window and paled when he saw the darkened sky and light of torches. When had that happened? He shook his head. “Ah, well.” He felt quite sheepish, fidgeting with his gauntlets for a moment to buy himself some time. In his younger days, he was sure he would have brushed the reminder off and continued about his work until he dropped. But he lived among the living now, not the dead, and the living demanded their own sort of tribute. He smiled up, somehow still up, at Dedue as he shrugged his fur cloak onto his shoulders. “Then please lead the way.”

“Your Highness.” A nod of the head, which might as well have been a bow from anyone else. Dimitri crossed the floor with quick strides, reaching the doorway in a few moments’ time. With a small nod of his own, the both of them began the short walk to his chambers. As they passed under the torches in the hall, Dimitri thought Dedue looked a little clammy. Dedue also walked a bit slower than usual, only just keeping up with him. Perhaps it had been a long day for him, as well?

“How was the garden today?” Dimitri asked. Dedue blinked slowly, as if in a fog.

The fog cleared, soon enough. “Some of the seeds have sprouted.” He seemed glad of it, a softness to his face and an unclenching of his hands. “The rains will come soon, however. We must be prepared.”

“I remember how it used to flood when I was a child.” He shut his eye, letting the vague memory of mud and illness carry him for a short time. When he returned to the present, Dedue stood by him, steady as always. “Fhirdiad is stronger now, but some may still lose their homes or take ill. We can shelter people here, if they are in need.” He hummed, thoughtful. “I’m sure the healing herbs you and Ashe have been planting will be of great help, too.”

Dedue looked pleased. A subtle look, to be sure, but the crinkles at his eyes couldn’t fool him. “I am hopeful.”

“Good, I’m glad. If anyone deserves to be hopeful, it’s you, Dedue.” He smiled, soft and shy, as he cast a quick glance back up at him. He caught a hint of blush before he forced himself to look away. Looking at Dedue too long could prove hazardous to one’s health. He knew this well, as it was only a week ago when he’d managed to stumble over his own two feet because he’d gotten distracted by the silver scars that lined his face. Best not risk another incident so soon. He coughed, clearing the air, and allowed his footsteps to slow as they reached his chambers.

His chambers contained three rooms – a bed, a bath, and a room for whatever needed doing at the time that wasn’t the covered by first two. That last room held the fireplace, a few chairs, another desk, an odd assortment of training weapons, and a table. The table could be used for storage, for writing letters, or, as now, for breakfasts and quick meals. Dedue must have brought a tray of food up from the kitchens. The plates were topped with thinly sliced cheese and meat and bread. His hands fumbled as he pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.

“Please, sit with me.” He gestured to the spare chair. He busied himself, picking at small bites of food. The cheese tasted sharp, the bread crumbled nicely, and the meat must have been seasoned well, so it wasn’t too much trouble to eat. Dedue had yet to sit, and while he sometimes preferred to stand, he usually only did so in the company of others. Dimitri spared a glance up at him.

Dedue seemed weighed down, a slight slump to his shoulders. He stared at nothing, eyes dim. Odd. Had he lost focus again? The redness he thought as a blush earlier hadn’t faded, either. Dimitri frowned. He pushed his plate back onto the table. 

“Dedue?” He rose up to his feet. Worry clawed at him. “Are you feeling well? You seem… out of sorts today.” He hesitated, unsure if his touch would make what plagued him worse.

Dedue took a sharp breath and stood tall, or at least as tall as he could manage. His eyes were glassy now. Almost teary. Dimitri hated it, hated whatever had done this to him, hated himself for how Dedue pushed too hard for his sake. He gripped his forearms with great care, the skin tacky and sticky beneath. “Please, tell me honestly.”

Dedue unwound. “It has been damp. I may have caught a cold when I was working outdoors.” He gave off heat like a furnace. Dimitri slid his hands down to hold Dedue’s palms steady between them. “It is nothing to concern yourself with.”

Dimitri scoffed. “I believe I will be the judge of that.” He may feel a bit silly later, worrying so much over a simple cold, but he’d never forgive himself, otherwise. All these years, Dedue had fussed over his aches and pains, his scrapes and bruises, his wounds and scars. To allow Dedue to be alone with his ailment, no matter how slight, would be a betrayal, as sure as the dagger wound that still pained his shoulder at times. He took in Dedue’s flushed face, the sheen of sweat that clung to his brow, the haze in his eyes, and let out a sigh, holding his hands as delicately as he could manage. “Have you slept at all? I’m told sleep is what one does with colds like these.” He nodded, assuring himself. “I assume you’ve eaten?”

Dedue leaned closer, letting Dimitri carry some of his weight. “Dinner was pleasant. I have not yet slept, but I do not foresee any difficulty.”

Dimitri brushed a hand along the scar that framed his lips. Even here, he could feel the heat pouring off him. “You’re burning up. Please, take my bed and get some rest.”

Dedue frowned, closing his eyes. “I cannot. There are still duties for me to perform.”

“Then you must forget them. You are essential to me, and I will not have you risk your health for the sake of some meaningless task.”

His eyes opened, and though they were hazed with red, Dimitri still thought them kind. One of his hands, nicked with scars, landed heavily on his shoulder. “Where will you sleep, if I have taken your bed?”

Dimitri shook his head, a slight smile on his face. Encouraging, he hoped. “I will manage, I’m sure. Perhaps I’ll borrow yours?” He shrugged, loose-limbed. He brought himself closer, speaking into his shoulder more than the air. “You must know that I will not get any rest until you do.”

Dedue inhaled sharply. It may be a poor play, bidding his welfare as a chip against him, but if it led to Dedue taking better care of himself, then he would play it without regret. Dedue exhaled, which turned into more of a cough. “Then I will sleep.” Softly, he added, “If that is what you wish, Dimitri.”

Hearing his name from his most cherished friend still threatened to bring him to his knees. He held on this time, but only just. He found Dedue’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the knuckles before he led them to their bedroom. Sleep still sometimes proved elusive for him, and he refused to disturb Dedue’s rest with his frequent comings and goings. Likewise, Dedue refused to sleep apart from him, in case trouble or terror came in the night. Hence, a compromise was reached: separate beds, often pushed together.

Dedue must have been more tired than he implied, as he sloughed off only his boots before he climbed into bed. He wore the scarf of Duscur proudly, even in his sleep, and Dimitri would never part him from it. The bed was piled high with blankets, as he tended to run cold, but he shoved them aside to make it more welcoming for Dedue. He laid his cloak at the foot of the bed, just in case Dedue wanted the warmth in the night. Dedue stretched and sighed as he fell onto the mattress and tried to make himself comfortable.

Dimitri wet a cloth and laid it on Dedue’s forehead, hoping it may help. Dedue took his hand before he could move it away, cradling it against his face. Dimitri sat himself on the side of the bed, legs folded under him, and brushed his thumb against Dedue’s jaw. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips. Dedue went lax as sleep claimed him, the vague impression of a smile on his face despite the fever.

“I’ll be here when you wake,” Dimitri murmured.

Several hours later, sun peaking through the clouds and Dedue warm in his bed, he proved himself sincere.


End file.
